


Touch

by moon_intension



Series: My Adlocktober Submission Compilation (2016) [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: A Scandal In October, Adlock, Adlocktober, Books, Ender's Game mentioned, F/M, Fluff, Here's the first one, Is this a rare pair?, Just cute bookworms Sherlock and Irene, Library, Please go check out the adlocktober tag on Tumblr, Rare Pairings, Romeo and Juliet mentioned, Wanted to compile my Sherlock fanfics from 2016, We adlock shippers write pretty well :))), because why not?, puns, the adlock yacht
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:14:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29802777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_intension/pseuds/moon_intension
Summary: Inspired by the prompt, "Tell me again how we ended up here."
Relationships: Irene Adler/Sherlock Holmes
Series: My Adlocktober Submission Compilation (2016) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2190636
Kudos: 5





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first series, consisting of all the adlock fanfiction I've written on 2016 (and onwards, perhaps), and I am electrified by how much nostalgia I feel. 
> 
> Enjoy reading my fellow Sherlockians~

“Tell me again how we ended up here.”

She turned her head to look at him. “We were in the library at the same time, and you got shocked when you looked at me. I offered you a seat at a table, and you said yes.”

—

Irene glided her hand over the covers of the books. Each one was an adventure, waiting to begin. She loved adventures, and ever since she was a little girl, she wanted to go on them. She remembered walking in a forest one afternoon after school, and Irene had just stared. At the trees shading her from the sun, the stray lines of light peeking through, the cute and majestic animals, the ponds filled with young tadpoles and water lilies, the life-giving plants. It was almost a dream. The only thing that prevented her from staying was her fear of the night, when the shadows turn to monsters and the scuffles turn to screams. Irene had many little adventures, and she looked forward to when she’d do big girl adventures.

She was now on a simple but serious one: looking for a good book. “Done, done, done, done…” _What if one day_ , she thought, _I’d read all the books I found good?_ The thought was amazing and terrifying. All of it, over the course of her life, all those books. From the Children’s, to the Young Adult, to the Classics, to the…Shakespeare. She found one of his works.

Irene picked it up and looked at it, a triumphant glint in her eyes. “Perfect.”

Something moved in the place where she’d just gotten the book. Reaching in with a hand, she felt around blindly. It landed on warm, familiar skin. Cheeks flushed, Irene looked into the narrow opening. Below dark curls was a single blue-grey eye boring into her. “Mr. Holmes.”

He gasped. “Ms. Adler. I thought it’d be you.”

“Hey.” Irene drew her hand back. “Do you want to go sit?”

Sherlock paused. “Yes.”

—

They sat beside each other, each reading a different book. Sherlock’s was _Ender’s Game_ and Irene’s was _Romeo and Juliet_. 

It was Sherlock who broke the silence. “If I may, could I take your hand?”

Irene closed her book and raised her eyebrows at him. “You’re not proposing, are you?”

“No, no, of c-course not,” Sherlock said. “I only want to take your pulse.”

“Oh like last time?” Irene rolled her eyes, but then thinking again, she agreed.

She held out her hand, and Sherlock clasped his hand in hers.

_Hmm_ , thought Irene. _Eyes are not the only way to see_. She could feel his pulse, his sweat, the tension, the skin, the heat, attraction. With a burst of surprise, Irene noticed that he was coming in for a kiss.

“Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself there, Mr. Holmes?” She smirked, seeing his reaction.

Sherlock Holmes was bewildered. It was rare to see him at a state like this, and yet there he was, glancing at her and him, her and him, and her and him. “Wha-what?”

“I can tell with my eyes closed, Mr. Holmes. You like-like me, Irenically.”

Sherlock glared at her, and with a swoosh of his trench coat, he was gone.


End file.
